


“I am tired of myself tonight. I should like to be somebody else.”

by notjustmom



Series: “Quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit.” [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:03:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom





	“I am tired of myself tonight. I should like to be somebody else.”

At times, John wished he could become someone else, as easily as Sherlock could. He didn't understand how he did it, but there were times when John would return home to find Sherlock waiting in the client's chair, and it would take John twenty minutes to realise the person sitting there was his flat mate and partner of over three years, more or less.

"How?"

"A bit of makeup, a wig and change of clothing -"

"No. I mean - I know you. I. know. you. Better than I know myself, I know each mole and freckle - every scar - every story behind each scar. I know you, and yet, I didn't know it was you, until you said my name."

"You think I'm complicated."

"You are."

Sherlock smiled at him as he peeled off the fake beard and removed the auburn wig, then ruffled his hair to some degree of normal. "I'm really not, John. You give me far too much credit. At heart, I'm a simple man."

John snorted and shook his head. "Simple. Uh-huh."

Sherlock sighed as he shrugged out of his decidedly unSherlock ragged tweed jacket, then sat in front of John. "You are confusing my thought processes, my intellect, with who I am as a human being."

John looked down at him and considered him carefully.

"I can disappear into a character to the point where even my own mum wouldn't know me because I can easily discard what makes me, me, and then I just take on whatever new characteristics that are needed to carry out the disguise." Sherlock sighed as he noted the disbelief in John's eyes. "What makes me, me, John?"

"Is that your subtle way of asking me what I love about you?"

Sherlock shrugged then bit his lip.

"You don't know, do you? You wonder if one day whatever it is that I love about you will change and then -"

"You'll leave me."

"It will never happen." John reached out and removed the terrible moustache that still sat above Sherlock's top lip, then bent down to kiss him. 

Sherlock put a slender finger on John's lips, stopping his forward progress. "You're evading the question."

"What question was that, precisely?" John gently teased him. "Okay. Right. What makes you the person I love?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Naturally, obviously, your intelligence. Though it would be nice if time to time I could surprise you. You always seem to know everything I'm feeling and thinking; that to me, is unbelievably sexy. It is."

"And...?"

"And? Your thoughtfulness, you, in your own way, are the most generous person I know. You try to bury it, hide it from others, but I see it, every day. How you are with Mrs. Hudson, your Irregulars - you care for people who don't have anyone else; when you can't help someone that has asked for your help, I see how it hurts you, you try not to let me see, but it's there." 

Sherlock shook his head and tried to move away, but John stopped him with a look. "No you don't. You asked me, so I'm going to tell you. Your sense of humour, your appreciation of the absurdity of our life together. From the day we met, our relationship has never been what most would consider linear or logical, which I have to imagine wasn't easy for you. You were there for me on my worst days, and I know you could tell when I was going to have a bad night, I know how much you wanted to fix what was wrong, but you were smart enough to know it was something I had to work through, and you let me do it. Your patience. I knew early on, how you felt, I did. But I wasn't sure I was enough for you - I was still so broken, and I knew you were still dealing with things, but you waited, you gave me time to figure things out." John smiled softly at Sherlock and watched his face change. "You are endlessly fascinating to me. I know you so well, but I also know I will never know everything that makes you uniquely you. There will never be anyone else like you, Sherlock Holmes, and I consider myself the luckiest bloke on this or any other planet -"

"John. You do know there is no evidence of humanoid or any other form of life on other planets."

"Just because there is no evidence -" John grinned, then pulled Sherlock into his lap. "...doesn't mean there isn't life there. But, that wasn't my point, and you know it. Oh, and I nearly forgot - that damn nose crinkle when you are flabbergasted, or confused, like you are at this moment? That sends me right around the bend -"

"Nose crinkle?"

"I'm a simple man, Sherlock."

"John, you are -"

"Ridiculously in love with you? Yes."

Sherlock gazed up into John's smiling face, then pulled him into a gentle kiss that quickly built into something new, something stronger than John had ever known before and yet at the same time, John knew Sherlock was allowing him to see him at his most open, his most vulnerable, and he drew back slowly and opened his eyes. "You know that I love you, everything about you?"

Sherlock nodded. "I do. I still don't quite believe it at times, no one else - no one had ever seen me in the way you do."

"Because you don't let many people see you, the real you. The man beneath the mask..." Sherlock snorted, but John could see the light in his eyes, the light that took his breath away. 'Did I happen to mention your eyes? No? And your ridiculous lips, not to mention..."

"John...."


End file.
